


a heart strangely moved

by Elizabeth (anghraine)



Series: The Lady of Gondor [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Brother-Sister Relationships, Father-Daughter Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Hobbit-Human Friendship, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-10-01 21:03:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20404081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anghraine/pseuds/Elizabeth
Summary: Fíriel, haunted by Boromir's death and the shadow of war, meets Pippin.





	a heart strangely moved

> _Pippin gazing at him saw how closely he resembled his brother Boromir—whom Pippin had liked from the first, admiring the great man's lordly but kindly manner. Yet suddenly for Faramir his heart was strangely moved with a feeling that he had not known before._
> 
> —LOTR, "The Siege of Gondor"

Boromir and Fíriel could both command man and beast alike. Fíriel had inherited the gifts of mind and will that ran in the blood of Emyn Arnen and Dol Amroth; Boromir did not need them. As Fíriel followed him in childhood, devotedly certain that he could have no equal, so his men followed him now.

—No, not now. That was before: before he disappeared beyond Gondor's borders, before Fíriel saw him at peace in a funeral barge, floating down the Anduin, before the pieces of his splintered horn returned to them. He was gone, slain in defense of the small and helpless rather than the great. A better death, Fíriel thought, but one that left them weaker and more desperate than ever before.

She saw him in Laurelindórenan, wrung with anguish before its deathless Lady. Some terrible temptation, her heart told her, but her heart fell inconveniently silent as to how it ended. A better death—

Perhaps, perhaps.

“He helped us,” the _perian_ swore. “Not only at the end, but all along. In the snow, and … and always.”

“I can believe it,” said Fíriel, and she looked warmly on Peregrin. His mind was clear, open, utterly devoid of guile; and full of admiration, for Boromir and Gondor and, without explanation, for Fíriel herself. “Indeed, I would not believe anything else.”

Tension drained out of his small body and he straightened up, reverting to a blithe cheer that seemed more natural to him.

“You remind me of him,” Peregrin confided. “Well, more of Aragorn. Like the Steward! But there’s still …” After a pause, he peered up at Fíriel. “Oh, maybe you don’t want to hear about him.”

“I would very much like to,” she said gently.

Peregrin beamed.

Fíriel’s conscience permitted this much. She had already conferred with Mithrandir after the wizard tracked her down, _perian _in tow. She had talked with her father, privy to a little more of his plans than others, but only the more bewildered for it.

_The captain-general _(none had been appointed in Boromir’s stead, as far as she knew) _will be relieved by a sortie. Imrahil and his men, of course. But you must not bend, Fíriel, no matter what follows. Swear to it._

Fíriel, though taken aback, had sworn it without hesitation, not accustomed to bending to anyone but Denethor, and then only when compelled by agreement or duty. Afterwards, she considered and reconsidered his conduct, his intentions entirely obscured. There seemed something fey in him now, even by the standards of their people and their family, and a grim resolve well beyond the usual. Though she would not have admitted it to anyone, Denethor least of all, dread crept on her. As she strode out of the hall she’d walked countless times, the kings seemed to glower down, the arches and pillars casting heavy shadows.

Her father was a stern, unwavering man, set in his ways and rarely altering a path once chosen. While his decisions did not always please her, they almost never _surprised _her, all the more as he often entrusted her with some part of them. They understood each other, Denethor and Fíriel; but she did not understand him now. 

Something approached, she knew, but it was a knowing without knowing. Something approached that she did not expect, could not foresee, could not grasp beyond a certainty that change was coming. For Gondor, change rarely came as a friend.

“Well,” Peregrin said, after long consideration, “I think the _best _Boromir story is when the mountain tried to kill us.”

She stared at him, jolted into full attention. Then she smiled.

“Tell me all about it,” said Fíriel.

And for a few hours, she set fear aside, listening to tales of her brother’s kindness and courage. Peregrin thought little of himself, but today—today, of all days, he brought immeasurable peace. She’d known that Boromir died well; now she knew that he had lived well, too, brought strength and comfort to the most vulnerable of his doomed company. 

Fíriel spoke three languages and a good deal of a fourth, but when he finished, she could only say,

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) _She saw him in Laurelindórenan_: Faramir's sudden outcry about Boromir in Lothlórien is weirdly precise: _Boromir, O Boromir! What did she say to you, the Lady that dies not? What did she see? What woke in your heart then? Why went you ever to Laurelindórenan?_
> 
> 2) _They understood each other, Denethor and Fíriel_: I am 100% convinced that a Faramir who isn't expected to be a warrior/captain might not be better for Gondor, but would be a hell of a lot better for Denethor and Faramir's relationship.


End file.
